


Play, Pause, Stop

by MoonRiver



Series: Adopted [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Car Sex, Fingerfucking, M/M, Multi, Multiple Pairings, Multiple Partners, Open Relationships, Partner Swapping, Sexting, Sexual Content, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 16:23:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonRiver/pseuds/MoonRiver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sherlock was thirty-six and Mycroft was forty-three they were both in steady relationships...with other men. </p><p>That is, until John sends a video of he and Sherlock having sex to Lestrade by mistake and the relationship between the two couples changes in unpredictable and erotic ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this is part of the "Adopted" series even though Sherlock is officially with John in this story. Things have changed a LOT since his affair with his own adopted sibling when he was young. 
> 
> No, you do not have to read the other stories to understand this one. Any questions about the back story will be explained because John is in the dark too :)
> 
> Warning: open relationships, partner swapping, told in multiple points of view. You have been warned!
> 
> Enjoy!

“That’s it Sherlock.”

“I hate you.”

“Right there…again! _God_ you’re brilliant!”

They were in route to Baker Street from Mycroft’s house, where they were just given two new smartphones to replace the ones they had (yet again) broken during their latest case. John wasted no time getting to know his mobile, deciding that a tinted sedan and bumping country road meant the perfect opportunity for both car sex and to try out his new camera phone.

It resulted in Sherlock being completely naked save for the coat thrown over him and John, beneath him, being completely clothed save for the cock sticking out of his trousers and up Sherlock’s arse. He flipped through the camera settings as Sherlock bounced on top of him, his face reeking with sweat and his breath coming in desperate pants.

“The focus on this camera is just so much better than my other one,” he went on, focusing in on the slap of skin against skin, the pounding of Sherlock’s cock in to his arse.

“John!” Sherlock whimpered.

In response, John pumped his hips up harder. He knew combined with the vibrations of the car against the rocky road he was driving Sherlock wild. Best of all, with the coat draped over both Sherlock and his own shoulders, his lover couldn’t know exactly what the camera was filming.

“Oh fuck John,” Sherlock gasp. “Oh god, I’m-“

John grabbed Sherlock’s cock as he sped toward his climax, pumping harder and harder. Arms tight around his neck, Sherlock panted and grunted as he came. John careful caught the sticky mess in his free hand while the camera kept rolling in the other.

“Oh,” Sherlock shuddered as he rode John’s cock through his own orgasm. “Oh god John.”

“Mmm, Sherlock,” John sighed.

He tilted his head back, enjoying the hot pants against his neck as Sherlock whimpered. He angled the mobile in a way that would capture the cum dripping from his hands and milked the last drops out of Sherlock’s cock.

Sherlock finished with an exhausted sigh and collapsed against John’s chest. He squirmed, aching to get off of him, but John grabbed his hips with one hand and pounded his arse up faster than ever. His lover groaned as he continued to be violated even after his orgasm, and as John felt himself racing toward his own he purposefully let out a series of loud, animalistic, groans that the camera would pick up.

He cried out as he came deep inside Sherlock’s arse, and he wasted no time pulling out just so he could look down beneath the coat and see his cum dripping out of that hole. Sherlock gasped as he held onto John’s shoulders and tried to look down as well, and he grinned, knowing his lover would get the full view when he watched the video back ever.

“Car sex,” John announced. “I always said it was the perfect way to end a case. I’ll send the video to you, for all your masturbating needs.”

Sherlock leaned forward to kiss him, wet, deep, and grateful. Behind his back, John began clicking through the mobile so that he could send the video to Sherlock.

“Oh shit!” He exclaimed when he realized what just happened.

He nearly sent Sherlock tumbling backward as he sat up and began shaking his mobile, as though that would actually help things.

“What?” Sherlock demanded, grabbing his hand so that he could see the message.

John’s face turned cheeks turned cherry red as he admitted:

“I accidentally sent that to Lestrade.”

“What?!” Sherlock hissed. John closed his eyes, wishing for all this to be some horrible nightmare. “You just sent a copper, who is dating my brother, a video of us having sex in a car? In one of their cars?!”

“In my defense, we offered to take a taxi.”

“Oh god.”

This moan wasn’t happy or exotic. Sherlock looked miserable, and as his eyes fluttered close John knew for the first time he was resisting the urge to slap him.

As if the situation couldn’t get any worse, his mobile buzzed.

Lestrade actually replied.

 _Nice. Mycroft’s bigger though. Glad you like the mobile._ – GL.

“Oh god!” Sherlock moaned again, pushing off him.

John deleted the text immediately from his mobile.

“You’re not going to explain?” Sherlock asked.

He wrapped the coat around him as he grabbed for the clothes that littered the floorboards of the car. John had never been more grateful for the soundproof divider that separated them from the driver.

“Explain what? That we like to take videos of ourselves having sex and send them to each other?”

“We did it once, for a case!” Sherlock protested. That was a lie and Sherlock knew it. “It was an experiment!”

“And what was this?”

Blood pounded through his veins; this was definitely the new most embarrassing moment of his life. He was shocked when Sherlock leaned over and kissed him casually. A grin was actually on his face.

“You experimenting with your mobile,” Sherlock said. “God I can’t believe he’s going to get off listening to me come while riding in a car.”

“Yeah, well it wasn’t a car you were riding. He’ll hear me too. Fuck, I’m an idiot!” With a sigh he tilted his head back and closed his eyes. “Maybe he won’t watch the whole thing.”

At that moment Sherlock got a text on his own mobile, and as soon as he checked it he immediately paled. He shoved his phone into John’s hand and sank into his seat, wrapping his arms around his bare chest.

 _Mediocre, at best. And you’re paying to have that car cleaned._ – MH

“My own brother,” Sherlock groaned.

“I’ll get it cleaned,” John offered. “It was my bloody idea.”

“Yeah. It was good sex, though.”

They gazed at each other, and John couldn’t help but to grin.

“Yeah, it was.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!! I'd love to hear your thoughts on this so far.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a teaser!

“Mycroft?”

Greg whimpered as he winced and braced himself against the wall. Mycroft had gone completely silent, save for his low and shallow breathing, which was never a good sign.

Especially during sex.

It was usually a sign that he was about to be…

“O-oh god!” He moaned as his lover’s arse began pounding against his.

He gasped as the impact of it threw him against the wall again and again, and he knew the steady thump, thump, thump, was driving Mycroft crazy. A hand snaked around to grab his cock without warning, and Greg moaned let out another loud moan as the hand began stroking him with earnest.

“This…was…your…idea,” Mycroft panted behind him.

“Christ we’re too old for this.”

As though to prove him wrong Mycroft began thrusting harder, faster.

“Oh fuck oh shit oh GOD!” Greg exclaimed.

His cries echoed through the house as Mycroft pounded him and pounded him, and Greg could only cling to the wall for dear life. When he felt his climax rushing through him he let out shuddering pants as he came into his lovers hand. Behind him, a low growl was his only warning before he felt Mycroft’s load shoot through his arse. The feeling alone made him close his eyes and whimper, and he was left gasping as Mycroft continued to push into him harder and harder until his orgasm finally died out.

 _“Oh,”_ Mycroft sighed as he pulled out.

He pushed in one final time for good measure, and Greg resisted the urge to turn around and watch as he pushed the cum back in.

“Good idea, love,” Mycroft murmured, kissing his neck.

Greg moaned and tried not to think about how sore he’d be in the morning. They untangled themselves and stayed quiet for a moment. His eyes swirled around the room as he breathed in deeply, fighting to catch his breath.

“Did it get it all?” Greg asked.

Mycroft reached over for his mobile, which was perched on a nearby dresser by a small tripod. He let out one final, shaky, breath and ran his hand over his head as Mycroft checked the video. Hearing his own moans and pants gave him his answer.

“Shall I send it or would you like to do the honours?” Mycroft teased.

Greg snatched the device from his hand and admired his own work: the continuous pounding of his own body against the wall, the hand moving up and down his cock.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Do you really think it’s a good idea?”

His answer was having the mobile grabbed from his hand and a quick ‘click’ as a message was sent.

“Which one did you send that to?” Greg asked.

Panic was beginning to rise in him as anxiety settled in to second guess every decision he had made in the past few hours. Sure, seeing that video of John and Sherlock turned him on. Sure, it made him want to experiment with taking their own. Sure, after a few drinks, he and Mycroft toyed with getting revenge and sending it to their rivals.

But did they really have to act on it all?

Mycroft only grinned and turned off the mobile, officially calling it a night.

“Who do you think?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and for your comments!


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock bit his lip and gripped a pillow tightly. He didn’t mean to press play, his finger just slipped as he tried to delete the message. As soon as he saw a video file come through from his brother he immediately knew what it was, and the moaning that quietly filled the room as soon as it began confirmed his suspicion.

He didn’t want to watch the video. He certainly didn’t want to feel anything from it.

But god the way his brother pounded Lestrade against that wall.

It had been so long since they’d done the same.

“Sherlock?”

His heart leapt as his eyes shot up in horror to meet John. His lover froze, studying him as he held the mobile in one hand and the other hovering over his cock. He was wearing just his pyjama pants. He’d shed his shirt, at least giving himself the pleasure of rubbing at his own chest.

He didn’t reply. How could he?

Frowning, John stormed toward the bed and tilted the mobile toward him so he could see the video.

“Fuck,” John whined.

Without offering anything else, he climbed over Sherlock so he could settle in bed behind him.

“They just couldn’t help themselves, could they?” John teased.

His warm breath was right behind his ear; a fact that did not help his arousal.

“God he’s just…” John didn’t finish, but somehow Sherlock knew he was talking about Mycroft.

“I know,” he whispered.

His heart leapt as a hand crept around his waist and shimmed down to his cock.

“Mmm,” he murmured, squirming as John took hold of him.

“Love,” John sighed, planting a kiss just beneath his ear. “You realize this is nuts, right, watching people we know have sex?”

“You’re hard,” Sherlock croaked, feeling John’s cock resting just at his arse.

“Yes,” John whispered.

He thrust his hips forward, hard enough so that Sherlock could feel him through their trousers. In the video, Mycroft reached around to grab Lestrade’s cock, and he grabbed it _hard_. He began stroking, fast and furious, in tune with his thrusts.

“Oh,” Sherlock whispered.

John’s hand dipped into his pyjamas, grasping at his bare cock.

“You’re not wearing any pants,” John teased. “God you were desperate for a wank, weren’t you?”

Sherlock nodded.

“Go on then.”

The hand jerked away, and Sherlock whined at the loss of sensation. John instead forced him to take his own hand down his waistband. His fingers touched his cock, and Sherlock sighed.

Okay, this could work too.

He stroke slowly first. John placed his fingers on Sherlock’s other hand, bringing it to his bare chest so that he could brush it against his nipples. Lips graced his neck, and Sherlock moaned.

On screen, Lestrade was nearly bent all the way over, clinging desperately to the wall as he was pounded.

“God I bet that feels amazing, having Mycroft’s cock in your arse like that,” John said.

Sherlock stroked faster, biting his lips. He thrust his  hips forward just a bit, and John placed a pillow in front of him so he could fuck himself into it. In the video Lestrade moaned loudly and Mycroft cried out as he came.

“God, you’re just imagining it, aren’t you?” John teased. “Him coming into. Shooting into. Christ you two just kill me.”

Lestrade came next, and Sherlock knew he wasn’t long behind. He thrust harder and harder, his hand worker in faster strokes on his cock until he came inside his own pyjama bottoms.

“That’s it love,” John whispered, kissing his neck as he shuddered and gasped. “That’s it.”

He whimpered as a damp stain appeared on his pyjamas, but he refused to be embarrassed. Relief swept over him and his body went numb with pleasure in John’s arms. John’s hand finally went back down his bottoms, feeling his softening cock.

At the same time Mycroft sent him a text:

_Did you enjoy?_

“Tell him ‘yes’,” John murmured against his neck.

He kissed his neck, hard and rough, and Sherlock shivered. His mobile fumbled in his hands as he desperately typed out:

_Yes._

Less than a moment later a response came.

_Good. Thought of you._

“Oh god,” Sherlock whispered.

He closed his eyes as he pictured his adopted sibling picturing him coming as he pounded away into his boyfriend’s arse.

“Tell him you thought of him too,” John instructed.

He gasped a bit; was he really that’s transparent?

“It’s okay,” John promised, resting a hand on his shoulder.

_I thought of you too._

“You miss it, don’t you?” John asked. “Him? His cock? His arse. Do you still want it? It’s okay if you say yes.”

Biting his lip, Sherlock nodded. God he wanted it. Not because he wanted to have an affair, and not because he wasn’t satisfied with his relationship with John. But because he didn’t just want it, he needed it. Like a drug.

“Tell him,” John whispered.

Sherlock led out a shaky breath as he typed:

_I want you._

There was a long pause and he closed his eyes, regretting it. Then the screen lit up. A hand drifted over his bare arm.

_Can I come over?_

“Tell him yes,” John said. He typed out his hands. “And tell him I will be there too.”

“Oh god.”

How had he not thought of that before? John, him, Mycroft…John _watching_. He wanted it so badly he could come just at the thought.

“And Sherlock?” John said. He froze, his eyes wide as he waited for John’s neck command. “Tell him I’ll be joining.”

And his whole body nearly broke.

Behind him, John undid his own zipper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

Though John was the one who invited Mycroft over, he understood as soon as the elder Holmes stepped into the flat that this was not going to be about him. For a good few minutes the brother stared at each other, and John found it impossible to take his own eyes away from Mycroft.

He had never considered how well-built Mycroft was. John recognized the distinct scent of the cologne Greg usually wore, and just a whiff of it made him shiver with anticipation.

“Thank you for inviting me, John,” Mycroft announced dryly.

John could only nod. In his mind he could only think of being bent over the wall with Mycroft’s cock pounding into him.

“I think John’s a little star-struck,” Sherlock smirked. “Have you been enjoying our videos, Mycroft?”

“Very much,” Mycroft said, his lips turned up in a slick grin, “and I would wager John had a nice time wanking off to our little session last night.”

Swallowing, John simply remained frozen. Mycroft placed a hand on his shoulder and suddenly his entire body went stiff. Behind him, Sherlock closed in, trapping his body between the two. A tongue lapped out at his ear, and relief washed over him as he realized it was Sherlock. Somehow, as much as he wanted it he was a bit nervous to perform in front of Mycroft. The standards he must hold. The history between him and Sherlock.

_Maybe I’m in over my head._

Even so his forehead dropped forward into Mycroft’s chest as Sherlock took to nipping at his neck. John moaned softly, relishing in the feeling of those soft lips dancing across his prickling skin. A strong hand came up to caress his chin, and John shivered when he realized it was Mycroft’s. For a moment it was just Sherlock’s lips, touching his skin, and Mycroft’s fingers, rubbing gently on his face. John became painfully aware of how heavily he was breathing, and he was grateful when Sherlock finally took him by the hand and announced:

“Bedroom.”

He and Mycroft followed without speaking. The door snapped shut behind him as they entered Sherlock’s darkened bedroom. Behind him, Mycroft let out a huff of disapproval at the microscopes lining the dresser, the Periodic Table poster on the wall, and the pile of dirty clothes on the floor.

“It’s like having sex in someone’s dormitory,” Mycroft remarked.

“Something I’m sure you’ve never experienced,” Sherlock said.

His boyfriend settled into a spot in the far corner, giving him an excellent view of the bed. John’s head swept from his boyfriend to Mycroft to the bed, which he was quickly realizing was only meant for him.

Apparently, he was the main course tonight.

When did _that_ happen?!

“John?” Mycroft called.

God the way that man said his name!

With a shudder John accepted the hand that was being held out to him and allowed Mycroft to lead him to the edge of the bed. Mycroft sat down first and pulled him down too so that he awkwardly straddled his legs. Their faces lingered closed together, and he found himself gazing into the eyes of the British government himself.

“Can I kiss you?” Mycroft asked.

His voice was uncharacteristically quiet and kind. John could have sworn he heard Sherlock smirk as he nodded. Mycroft’s lips closed in on him slowly, cautiously, and his breath hitched as their mouths brushed together. The kiss was soft at first; delicate. Hands fell on his arms, and John was held in place as the kiss deepened. They breathed in hard as they gasped for breath at the same time. Then their lips crushed together again, filled with more desperation this time. He let Mycroft’s tongue slipped through, and he felt his body freeze up, cell by cell, as his own mouth was ravished.

In the corner Sherlock stood quietly, and while he expected to feel wrong or guilty, the warmth and silence of the room only made the situation that much hotter. Slowly, Mycroft lowered himself back into the mattress so that John could lay down on top of him. The tongue slipped out of his mouth to lick at his ear and then nip at his neck and chin. He wanted to return the favor, but the tables were turned as he was suddenly rolled on his side.

He gasped a bit when he realized Mycroft was behind him. Through his trousers John could feel Mycroft’s cock against his arse. Even through the fabric he could feel how hard the man behind him was- and how big. Bigger than Sherlock, at least.

He thought of the sounds Greg made as he was pounded- the cries, the grunts, the way his face was contorted into pure pleasure. Those hands wrapped around to his chest, grasping at him and lowering down to the edges of his jumper.

His eyes found Sherlock’s as his jumper was pulled over his head and then his shirt. He watched as his clothes were lazily tossed over to Sherlock, who grimaced. As Mycroft’s hands worked next at his zipper John stayed perfectly still. A few teasing thrusts sent Mycroft’s clothed cock into his arse. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and grasp his own cock, giving himself the pleasure he craved.

But then there were hands down his trousers, his pants, and on his bare cock. The hands were cold and steady as they engulfed his shaft and rubbed gently. He bit back a groan as the hand moved slowly up and down, and John pushed his trousers down his hips and legs until he could kick them to the floor.

A warm face dug into his neck as the hand on his cock began pumping him slowly.

“What do you like, John?” Mycroft asked.

The fact that he was being so careful, so romantic, was completely throwing him off-guard. Sherlock didn’t look too impressed as he lingered in the corner, hidden by the shadows. His hands buried deep into his pockets.

“I like…” he tried to answer but fell into a series of grunts as the hand on his cock suddenly rubbed and pumped faster. Up and down. Up and down. “I like…to get off.”

“How?”

Lips kissed his neck and John winced, overwhelmed with anxiety and pleasure.

“I like things rough, sometimes,” John admitted. A hand slipped back to his bare arse and cupped his right cheek. Hard. John winced again as the fingers of the other hand walked to his hips and gripped him. _Hard._ God there would be bruises. “Sometimes slower is good too.”

“And you like it a bit kinky, yes?” Mycroft murmured.

At this Sherlock perked up, and he could have sworn he saw a twinkle of jealousy in his eyes.

“So-sometimes,” he admitted.

“How do you like to get off?” Mycroft asked again, his voice a warm whisper into his ear.

Closing his eyes, John let visions of some of the best, some of the roughest and some of the hardest sex he and Sherlock had pass through his mind.

“May I make a suggestion?” The voice in his ear had gone all breathy, and all John could think of was how hard he was. He nodded, desperate to hear his fate. “How about I fuck you, from behind, just like this? Then I let Sherlock take you, however he’d like. I bet you like toys, don’t you? The things that we could do you, John. We could trap us inside you, put you on a train, and send you over to Gregory. Seeing as you’re the only one in the room who hasn’t slept with him I would say that’s only fair, wouldn’t you agree?”

The way Mycroft switched from romantic to dominated made his blood turn cold. His eyes traveled up to Sherlock, hoping for some kind of hint that he might be in over his head. But his partner only stared at him, gazing deep into his eyes.

_He’s testing me,_ he realized, _oh god, he’s testing me to see how far I can go. How much I can take._

“Y-yes,” he whispered.

Something cool and liquid-y was pressed against his crack and he gasped, throwing his head back against Mycroft’s neck.

“Mmm. We could do so many things.”

Mycroft sank as he stuck in the first finger.

“Oh,” John whispered.

“Does that feel good?” Mycroft asked.

He nodded.

The finger pressed in harder, further, teasing at him from within his arse and he moaned.

Behind him, Mycroft unzipped his trousers.

His heart rate sped up, and John found himself grabbing onto Mycroft’s arms, holding onto him. In the corner, Sherlock watched.

“John,” Mycroft sighed as he pressed in a second finger.

John squirmed a bit of the sensation of having two strong fingers inside him, but he soon relaxed as the fingers dipped slowly in and out of him. He rutted back, adding friction.

“Mycroft,” he gasped.

“He loves that,” Sherlock suddenly said. John could see how wild his eyes were; he was turned on.

“I know.”

The fingers worked faster, reached deeper, and John yelped when they found his prostrate. He winced and closed his eyes as he was messaged. Mycroft’s nose dug into his shoulders and his tongue lapped at his skin. Not biting. Just licking.

“Three now?” Mycroft teased.

His fingers slipped out quickly and then in again, with more lube and a third finger. John moaned loudly. The sensation was too much, too perfect, and his arse just felt so… _full_ , already.

He could only imagine that cock inside him, filling him all the way.

“Mmm,” Mycroft moaned again as all three fingers graced that spot, teasing him right where it mattered.

“Aw fuck,” John gasped.

His entire body tensed; his arse clenched so that it engulfed Mycroft’s fingers.

“Yes!” John cried softly as the fingers pulled out _just so_ and then pushed back in.

Then they abruptly pulled out, leaving him gasping and panting desperately at the emptiness. He thrust back, hoping to find friction but found none as Mycroft rolled out of the bed. Even in the dark he could see how red Mycroft’s fingers were from the penetration, and just the thought that they might be cramped from breeching him made him even harder. He began leaking, dripping pre-cum onto his skin.

He watched, helpless, as Mycroft crossed the room to stand in front of his brother. Though his trousers were unzipped his pants still hid his cock, but the bulge was clearly visible.

_He’s huge!_

Excitement sparked inside him once again, and John reached out to touch himself.

He stopped when both brothers turned to him, admiring him. Studying him.

John swallowed, nervously, and dropped his hand.

“I think he’s ready, don’t you?” Mycroft asked.

He felt the world come to a stop as Sherlock’s lips turned up into a smirk. His tongue dashed out, licking his lips like he was awaiting his main course. The silence, the stillness, of the moment broke when Sherlock finally replied:

“Quite so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad you all are enjoying the story so far! I always appreciate knowing what you think!
> 
> Up next: everything John thought would happen when Mycroft came over...doesn't happen. Not that that's a bad thing.


	5. Chapter 5

“Oh god!” John groaned.

His arse cheeks clenched together on instinct as the toy breached him, and he ended up with his face buried into Sherlock’s cock.

“That’s it,” Sherlock sang. He lay in front of him in the bed. Mycroft knelt behind him and pushed the toy in deeper, opening him up a bit more. Sherlock’s hand brushed through his hair, calming him as he just took it. “Go on, John.”

John’s mouth opened with a tremble and engulfed Sherlock’s cock in one, steady, move. Behind him, Mycroft continued working the toy in and out of his arse. The feeling of something inside him made his body tingle, and John wiggled a bit, basking in the sensations rattling his bones. His hands went all sweaty at the moans erupting from Sherlock’s lips, and he had to clench at the drenched bed sheets to keep his balance.

Then, abruptly, the toy pulled out, and John gasped. The cock fell out of his mouth and Sherlock held it up to him, frustrated and desperate as he rubbed his shaft against John’s cheek.

“Oh fuck,” John gasped, shivering as Mycroft’s finger went inside him again.

He gave himself a moment to stay still and appreciate the finger teasing open his hole. The finger worked faster and faster, digging in a bit more until it was all the way inside him and John groaned. His mouth fell open, giving Sherlock opportunity to shove his cock back in, and John sucked on it as distraction from the finger jabbing at his prostate.

Suddenly that finger pulled out and was replaced with two, and his entire body flushed.

“That’s it John,” Mycroft cooed.

His other fingers roamed one of his cheeks, and John jumped as a hand suddenly came down and slapped his arse. He moaned around Sherlock’s cock as Mycroft’s hand rubbed his arse, grabbing it and slapping it again all while the other fingers dipped in and out of him. John desperately tried to get off against the sheets, even as the cock ring trapping his shaft made this impossible.

“Mycroft,” he gasped, pulling off of Sherlock.

His lover’s cock batted against his face once again, but John ignored it as he instead gave into the fingers causing all kinds of feels over his arse. He was slapped again, then again, and John pushed back, begging for more.

“Up you go,” Mycroft said suddenly, hoisting him into the air. The sudden rush off cool air against his shaft made him shiver, but it didn’t last long as Mycroft positioned him on his knees in a way that was easiest to penetrate him.

Before him, Sherlock tugged casually at his cock, and John moaned just at the sight.

“Mycroft,” Sherlock pleaded quietly.

His hand brushed to and fro across John’s chest. The elder Holmes ignored his adopted sibling as he suddenly pushed his cock into him without warning. John cried out and fell forward, his hands crushing Sherlock’s thighs. He grasped Sherlock’s legs for support as Mycroft pushed further and further into him, and as he was offered small, teasing, thrusts John kept his eyes closed.

“Mmm, feels good,” Mycroft sang. “Sherlock, want to feel?”

_Oh god. They’re going to share me._

But instead of a dick, a finger slipped up against the cock in his arse. The sensation was just so much, but John couldn’t help but to push back into it. He’d hoped that if they were going to try anything they would ask, but time must have skipped a few beats because suddenly the finger was pulling out and a second cock was pushing in.

“Sherlock!” He exclaimed. “Sherlock.”

“It’s okay,” Sherlock promised, holding his hand to John’s chest. “Oh. _God_ , it’s okay.”

“Here,” Mycroft said, shoving the lube into Sherlock’s hands.

John breathed a sigh of relief as the head of Sherlock’s cock pulled out of him. Sherlock reached beneath them both to lather himself up, and for good measure he stuck in a finger and lubed John up more as well. Then there was pressure at the opening of his arse again, and John moaned. Mycroft lifted him a little more so that he was practically sitting on Sherlock, but the position did make it easier when his boyfriend shoved his cock into him this time.

“Oh fuck,” he whispered. “Oh god. Oh fuck. Oh _Christ_ , Sherlock.”

“How does it feel?” Sherlock asked, offering a few thrusts up.

As he did his cock brushed against Mycroft’s, and a loud groan erupted behind him. Fingers clenched at his hips, and John winced at the force of them.

“S-so full,” John stammered. “Oh fuck. Sherlock!”

That seemed to be good enough of an answer. The two began moving, their cocks brushing in and out of him, and-

“Oh!” He cried. “Oh shit.”

He was being too loud, and he bit back another groan. Sherlock was perfectly silent beneath him, and he threw his head back in a way that was so erotic both he and Mycroft let out matching groans.

“That’s it,” Mycroft said, “that’s it, Sherlock. Oh god. Oh god you feel, you both feel…”

He trailed off, and Sherlock smirked.

“My brother can be a bit loud in bed,” Sherlock teased. “Though you’re giving him a run for his money.”

Another moan escaped him just at the thought, and he reached down to grasp his cock, giving himself as much relief as he could. His dick was trapped between his body and Sherlock’s stomach. His boyfriend scooted up so that they were all practically upright, sending him falling against Sherlock’s chest. He grabbed on and wrapped his arms around him, burying his head into his chest as the cocks inside his arse fought against each other.

_“Oh,”_ Mycroft sighed, his breath hot against his back.

Lips suddenly attacked his spine, sucking and licking hard all the way up to his neck. Then two sets of lips were against his neck, suckling hard and forming two, identical, bites.

“Mmm,” Mycroft groaned, planting his forehead against his chest.

“Oh fuck,” Sherlock said, letting out his single cry of the night. “Oh fuck John!”

John cried out as the first rush of warm fluid filled him up. Sherlock pounded harder, thrusting against him at double the speed as before. His hands clenched against the sheets, and John’s hands clenched against his back as his cock pulsed inside him. The feeling of his climax only made Mycroft pump harder.

“Oh John!” Mycroft said, his cry a silent whisper into his ear as he came.

More cum filled him, and the cocks kept pumping, churning the liquid mess until he could feel it seeping out of his hole. Sherlock pulled out first with a violent shudder, and then Mycroft followed. There was the snap of a photo, and he shut his eyes even tighter as he realized what Mycroft was admiring.

Before any more cum could spill out the toy was back inside him, plugging him up for now.

“Can I come first?” He begged. “Please?”

A dark, mysterious, twinkle crossed Sherlock’s eyes, and John’s body tensed as two sets of hands gently crawled around to his cock.

“Oh!” John gasped.

The feelings of both sets of hands on him sent his hips thrusting forward, harder and harder, fucking their fingers as his cock slipped between them. It wasn’t long before he came with a shout and collapsed forward. Sherlock held him up, his hand gracing his back in soothing rubs as he came down to earth.

John gasped and breathed in deeply, fighting to regain his breath. But knowing that the night was only just beginning didn’t help his adrenaline rush any.

The mattress dipped and then jumped up as Mycroft climbed off it. He walked over to the dresser and snapped off a computer monitor that had recorded the whole thing. John continued to fight for breath as he watched Mycroft simply grab his things and leave the room.

“I think it was a bit much for him,” Sherlock admitted.

John nodded. He was probably right. All that history that just resurfaced…no one could argue with that. Sherlock offered him a soft kiss before attacking his ear with his lips and murmuring:

“Greg expects you within the hour.”

With a final shuddering gasp John tried to build up his strength, knowing what was to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it :)
> 
> Thanks for the comments!


	6. Chapter 6

It was pouring down raining by the time John Watson turned up at his house. Greg shared the estate with Mycroft, who hadn’t expected him home for another couple of days. After catching an early train home, Greg considered going out to the pub, but a single text from John sent him racing home:

_Me, Mycroft Sherlock. Turn on your webcam._

Dropping his bags at the front door, Greg raced to his laptop in the living room and turned on the webcam to find it was hooked up one-way to a camera in Sherlock and John’s bedroom. And there they were, the three of them, riding each other’s cocks on the bed. Mycroft threw his head back in ecstasy as he fucked John, and Greg nearly lost it. He collapsed to the sofa to finger himself until he came.

He was about to watch the video for the third time when the doorbell rang. The door opened to reveal a shivering, drenched, John, and he wasted no time ushering him inside the house. Once in the warm room John wrapped his arms around himself; he was refusing to meet him in the eye. The more he studied him the more he realized:

“That was your first threesome.”

No questions needed. John nodded. A feeling of guilt sneaked into his gut; maybe they were being too rough on the poor bloke. Your first experience doing something that intense was always mind-blowing, and not always in a good way.

“Are you okay?” Greg asked awkwardly.

John nodded again. Letting out a sharp shudder, he reached up for Greg’s hand. His touch was warm and soft as he brought his hand back to his arse, and despite his guilt Greg couldn’t help but to feel aroused as his fingers were led down the back of John’s trousers…all the way to where the plug was buried inside him. He closed his eyes and thought of that final scene of the video, that final climax, and he bit back a whimper.

“Oh fuck,” he whispered.

Without saying a word, John pulled him in close and planted a soft kiss to his lips. Hands found his arms, and he was met with the shock of how gentle John was being. It was almost romantic, and it made him want to wrap his arms around him. He wanted to share that same comforting feeling.

Then with no warning at all the kiss became rough and Greg found himself pushing John back against the wall.

“God I could take you right here,” he hissed when they broke apart.

John began tugging at the edges of his own shirt, and he grasped a bit when the doctor pulled it off to reveal a surprisingly slim, well-built, body.

“Please do,” John replied.

Just to spite him, he spun John around so that he was forced against the closed door. His hands slipped around to his zipper, and he wasted no time pulling down his trousers and pants. John’s cock sprang out, looking so hard that Greg smiled as he pictured the torture he went through on the ride over here. As a reward he buried his face into the back of John’s shoulder, planting soft kisses there as his hands shimmied down to the plug.

John gasped when he caught hold of the plug’s small end, and he pulled it out just enough to catch sight of some of the cum trapped inside.

God what a sight.

The seed of two men was spilled inside that arse, waiting for him to join. John groaned when he suddenly pushed the plug back in and gripped his hips _hard_. With a load moan John threw his head back, letting it bounce against Greg’s shoulder.

“Come with me,” Greg murmured against his neck.

John let out a shaky sigh as Greg spun him back around, grabbed his hand, and led him into the kitchen. The change let him cool down a bit, though John looked a bit tense and uncomfortable.

“Amazing kitchen,” John commented.

“It’s one of my favourite parts of the house,” he admitted. “Try these.”

He reached into a glass jar and pulled out a scone. Greg pried John’s mouth open and stuffed it in; a grin crossed his face at the small moan that greeted him.

“That’s brilliant!” John exclaimed through a mouthful. “Did you make these?”

“Mycroft did,” he replied.

He left John alone for a moment to escape to the wine cooler. He poured a couple of glasses and passed one to John.

“Straight from Italy,” he said.

“Mycroft gets around, doesn’t he?”

A smirk crossed his face as they raised their glassed to a toast. John downed his quickly, his face flushing a bit as he emptied the glass.

“Been some night,” Greg said, “come here.”

Taking John’s hand again, he pulled him in close for a kiss.

“You don’t have to try to be romantic,” John teased. Their tongues danced together as they kissed again for a few moments. “I came here so you could shag me.”

He grabbed a handful of John’s arse, making the doctor moan again. As his head tilted back Greg sucked at his neck; John’s hands rested against his arms to hold himself in place.

“Come to bed with me then,” Greg murmured.

Leaving the wine and scones behind, he led John through the house and up the first floor to the master suite. The lights were out and Greg left them that way as he shuffled John inside. They landed against the door, kissing again. The moonlight drifted in through the curtains, highlighting them just so. They walked backwards until they collapsed on the bed.

“Roll over,” he whispered into John’s ear.

His tongue darted out, encasing his ear as John obeyed him.

“You’re very tense,” Greg said as his fingers shimmied down his back.

He began messaging him, starting with neck, then down his spine. His lips followed his fingers as worked John down to his arse. Then he worked on his arms, working out the tension in them.

“Christ,” John shuddered. “I think you missed your calling.”

He grinned against his skin as he reached his arse again. Without warning, his tongue lapped out, teasing the skin just above his cleft. A shiver attacked John, who hugged a pillow as Greg’s tongue traced lower, following the crack of his arse. When he reached the point where the plug was pushed in he pulled it out gently, though he quickly trapped the cum there with his finger.

As he held it all in place Greg scooted up so that he was laying over him. He reached over, fumbling inside the drawer for some lube. John jumped a bit when he heard the bottle open, and Greg planted a soft kiss against his back to calm his nerves. He reached around to see how hard John was, and they both moaned when his hands found erection penetrating the sheets beneath them.

With one hand he slicked his own cock up with a small amount of lube, and John was already groaning as he slipped his cock up and down that crack.

“Tease!” John shot.

A grin crossed his face as he suddenly pushed in with one, easy, move.

“Fu-fuck!” John hissed, clenching at the sheets.

“Jesus,” Greg gasped as he moved his hips a bit to test out the position.

Between the lube and the cum, it was more than easy for Greg to dip down inside him. 

“Hard as you can,” John choked, burying his head into his arms to brace himself.

“You asked for it.”

He began with slow thrust at first, just enough to rock them against the sheets. Then he wasted no time picking up the pace, and soon he was pounding John into the bed. The bed squeaked as he pounded faster and faster, and the bed dipped as he arched his back to create a better angle.

“Oh fuck!” John exclaimed, his voice vibrating with ecstasy. “Fuck! _Greg._ ”

His hands began sweating as they held onto the sheets. He thrust down, beating John’s arse against the bed with each stroke. For a few moments John just lay there and took it. His arse cheeks bounced with each thrust, and Greg couldn’t help but to grab a handful.

_“Oh!”_ Greg moaned as he took John’s arse in hand.

He offered him a sharp slap and then reached behind himself, placing a hand firmly against his own arse. It was begging for attention, needing to be touched and prodded, but _oh_ was it rare to be able to dominate like this.

“Greg,” John gasped; a warning. And then he began pleading: _“Greg!”_

“Not yet,” he hissed. “God not yet.”

He didn’t want this to end. John looked so beautiful, sprawled beneath him with his arse bouncing up and down. If Mycroft ever let him top he would fight him, thrusting upward to meet him until he was practically topping from the bottom. But the way John just _took it_.

“Oh god!” Greg suddenly yelped.

This definitely wasn’t going to last long. The feeling of cum encasing his cock, milking him as he slipped in and out, sent electric shocks through his entire body. John was constantly moaning and whimpering. He arched his back again, placing his hands more firmly against the bed as he sped up his thrust even more. A scream rang out through the room from beneath him, and John grabbed his hand to lead him toward his cock. Greg took it and hand, and a violent whimper answered his strokes.

He could feel himself rushing toward orgasm, and as much as he didn’t want this to end he wanted he wanted _it_ so badly.

“Greg,” John pleaded. “I want…please!”

And apparently, so did John. He looked down, and the sight of Mycroft and Sherlock’s cum leaking out of John’s arse, dripping against his cock and onto the bed, was what finally sent him over the edge.

“Oh!” He whimpered. Then his voice boomed through the house: “Fuck! John!”

He screamed as he came, adding his own release to the mess inside John. Another scream echoed his own, and he shuddered through his orgasm as he felt the sticky, hot, seed spurt into his hand. As they quietly rode through their aftershocks Greg bit his lip and closed his eyes, fighting to bring himself back to earth.

“Oh fuck,” John finally finished with a long sigh of relief.

John’s body shook so much that Greg felt the need to hold onto him. He rubbed his arms gently to calm him and again set off with the trail of kisses down his back, all the way to his arse.

When he reached the cleft he had to bite back a whimper. He ran a finger through him but John squirmed, rolling over so that he could draw his knees to his chest. Greg followed, situating himself behind him.

“You okay?” Lestrade asked, lips dancing across his shoulder blades. “You good?”

“Mmm,” John replied. He suddenly burst out in a quiet laughter and apologized. “Sorry, it’s been some night.”

“I bet,” Greg said. He ran his hands down the sides of John’s body one last time before the doctor scooted away to climb out of bed. “You can stay, if you like.”

“I’ve got to get back,” John said. “It’s part of the rules.”

He winked, and Greg swallowed as his body erupted with a sharp heat.

“Do you mind if I come with you?” He dared to ask.

John looked him straight in the eye and drew in a deep breath. Hands clenched into fist at his side, his whole body seemed to grow rigid as he offered him a single nod and invited him over for the night.


	7. Chapter 7

They say there’s a first time for everything. He could remember the first time he was able to tie his own shoes, the first time he rode a bike, the first time he took the tube on his own. But Mycroft Holmes could never remember a time when he ran out of someone’s bedroom like that.

He felt pathetic. He was far too old for this to begin with, but to fuck around with someone and just _run_?

“Where to, Mr. Holmes?” His driver asked.

Mycroft’s fingers rapped against his wrinkles trousers. His suit coat hung off his shoulders and he couldn’t be certain the socks sticking out of his loafers weren’t inside out. His hands rubbed against his watch, turning it back to and fro over his wrist as he usually did when he was anxious.

He wasn’t ready to go home. He didn’t want to go to the office. He wasn’t even ready to face Greg yet.

It wasn’t that he regretted it. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy it. He just didn’t understand what it meant. This wasn’t the first time he and Greg had swapped partners, but never before had he felt so desperate to understand what happened. He and Sherlock hadn’t…not in so long…

Grabbing his head, he tried to separate himself from the thoughts swimming inside his head.

“Mr. Holmes?” The driver inquired.

There was the usual concern in his voice, but Mycroft didn’t miss the faint smirk that crossed his face. Without explaining he fled from the car and used his spare key to get back into the Baker Street flat.

The place was as quiet as he left it. The door to the downstairs bedroom was still shut and the kitchen still dark, which meant Sherlock must either be sleeping or pretending to sleep. A bottle of wine sat on the countertops and he grabbed it along with two glasses before shuffling to his adopted sibling’s bedroom door.

“Sherlock?” He called softly.

His knuckles rapped against the door, but there was no answer.

“Sherlock I’d like to talk to you,” he explained. Drawing in a shaky breath, he added: “Please.”

At last he heard footsteps on the other side of the door, and he stepped back as the doorknob turned. Sherlock looked paler than usual as his head stuck out of his room. Their eyes met, and for a moment Mycroft forgot to breathe.

Since he first _officially_ gotten together with Greg years ago he began to lose any kind of sexual interest in Sherlock. He began to look at him as family again, though there was no longer any legal obligation for them to have anything to do with each other. Sherlock was his to protect, his to keep alive. His to keep off the streets, his to keep away from drugs.

And now Sherlock was John’s.

But as he gazed into his eyes all those old feelings crawled back to him. He remembered how Sherlock used to look, beneath him. He remembered the energy that used to exist between them in the solace of their flat.

“Back for seconds?” Sherlock whispered.

He grabbed the bottle of wine and opened the door to let him inside. Sherlock poured them both a glass, which Mycroft immediately raised his to his lips.

“You and John have never…” he trailed off, a bit embarrassed about what he was trying to say. “Not with anyone else?”

“No,” Sherlock admitted. He lingered by the window, eyeing the street below through the curtain as Mycroft stood behind him. “It’s not that I haven’t considered it, but I just always thought John was more…sensitive.”

“Sensitive is such a strong word,” Mycroft smirked. “I think he just wants you for himself.”

Sherlock mirrored his smirk and turned back around. He took a sip of the wine before replying:

“Trust me, I was more surprised than anyone when he suggested it,” he said. “Part of me worries…I’ve told him stories…”

“Of _us_?!” Mycroft shot. “You’ve told John stories of us? And you’re, what, worried he’s afraid you’ll get bored?”

The skin of Sherlock’s face flushed, and Mycroft’s heart melted a bit at his naivety.

“Oh Sherlock,” he sighed. He placed a hand on his shoulder and sipped at his own wine.

“I miss those days sometimes,” Sherlock whispered.

“No you don’t. You have John. He’s far better for you than I could ever dream of being.”

With a hollow laugh Sherlock spun around and grabbed the lapels of his coat.

“Do you ever wonder what it would have been like?” Sherlock asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft and gentle.

“Unbearable,” Mycroft said with a small grin.

“Yeah, probably so.”

Suddenly their lips were inches apart, and this wasn’t what Mycroft intended at all.

“I can’t help myself,” Mycroft breathed.

“Neither can I.”

They kissed, and a cold burst of adrenaline rushed through him. The energy turned warm as Sherlock’s hands clenched around his lapels and his own hands found the younger man’s hips. When they broke apart Mycroft had to fight every molecule of arousal inside him to take advantage of the moment and say:

“I don’t think this will work. There’s too much between us. If we let ourselves go we’ll want it, over and over again. We can’t we have to settle down. We have to stop.”

Sherlock’s lips lingered so close to his that his body trembled.

“What’s going on, Mycroft?” Sherlock rasped.

For a moment he could only breathe. He had to think about it, the slow breathe in, breathe out that somehow managed to keep him alive. The walls felt like they were closing in; the darkened bedroom was suddenly too small for him to stand being in.

“I want to ask Greg to marry me,” he admitted. He could feel Sherlock’s body turn cold beneath his fingertips. “I know it’s pointless. Our relationship has to be so private. We’re hardly together these days. But I’m getting older, and I…I think I’m finally realizing there’s more to life than the work. I’ve been offered a promotion that would keep my job mainly within English borders.”

“I didn’t know there was another promotion for you to get,” Sherlock teased.

A shadow of a smile hung on his face, but Mycroft could tell Sherlock was bothered by this. What he couldn’t figure out was why. Was it knowing that he would always be here, in this city? Or was it giving him up to Greg, until death?

“It’s within a different department,” he explained. “I’ve found someone to take over my position. They’ll be brilliant at it. And this…this will be something new, for the first time ever. I need change, Sherlock. I need change or I may possibly go insane.”

His hands were pulled away from Sherlock’s hips. Instead, Sherlock linked their hands together, folding their palms into one.

“And you’re not going to miss the power?” Sherlock asked.

“Oh, I’ll have power.”

“Shit, look at us. You’re right: this isn’t us anymore. Maybe it should have never been.”

Shaking his head, Mycroft replied:

“Don’t say that. You can’t regret it. After all, _this_ is probably what kept us from killing each other.”

“True.”

Their lips were so close, and his heart ached to kiss him. It was that kind of temptation that made him so nervous about popping the question to Greg.

“Marriage will change everything,” Mycroft murmured as his lips ever-so-gently teased Sherlock’s chin. “It’s so…final.”

“You’re getting married, not dying.”

“Yes well, all the same.”

“One last time? Just to be sure.”

“Be sure of??”

Hands suddenly gripped his arse cheeks, and his eyes fluttered to a close.

“Then let’s just say…one more for the road. To celebrate.”

Sherlock’s lips crashed against his, and he stopped breathing. Fingers desperately grabbed for his shirt and danced to the buttons.

“Sherlock, this is what I was trying to talk to you about,” he gasped as he jacket was pulled off.

“It’s okay,” Sherlock breathed, caressing his neck. “It’s okay.”

He was just being so gentle that Mycroft shuddered, giving in.

“One last time,” he agreed.

In one swift move Sherlock pinned him against the wall. His lips attacked his neck in rough brushes against his sensitive skin. Moaning, Mycroft brought his hands back down to his hips and gripped them hard.

“ _Ugh_ ,” Sherlock groaned. “Mycroft.”

He ran his hands over Sherlock’s face, through his hair and down his back. This was going to be quick, rough, and maybe just a bit wrong, but he wanted it so badly it was painful. They were already breathing as Sherlock’s fought now with his zipper.

“I want to take you…right here,” Sherlock gasped.

He could only moan in response.

“You can always have me, Mycroft,” Sherlock went on as he palmed his throbbing cock through his pants.

Little by little his trousers were pulled down, just enough to give Sherlock access.

“I think that’s our problem,” Mycroft whispered.

Sherlock thrust against him in response, flexing his hips in a teasing rhythm. The movement pinned him even more against the wall, and Mycroft fought the urge to just stand there and take it.

“Fuck yes,” Sherlock hissed as his hands found Mycroft’s bare cock.

He hissed himself as those cool fingertips tested out his length, gripping and tugging at the shaft.

“Harder,” Mycroft whispered, and the hands obeyed.

With a whimper his palms pressed against the wall behind him as Sherlock dipped down to his knees.

“Oh Christ,” Mycroft murmured.

A soft, warm, breath trickled across his hard cock. Sherlock hummed as he lapped out with a few teasing licks before taking him in whole.

“Oh fuck yes,” Mycroft cried.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head as pleasure crawled through his bones. It was heart and sharp and warm all at the same time. The sensations roaming his body made his heart pound. Hands wrapped around his thighs, holding him in place as Sherlock took him in deeper.

_“Sherlock.”_

He couldn’t help the grunts and groans coming from his mouth while Sherlock remained perfectly silent. Flexing his hips, he held onto his adopted sibling’s head, forcing him to go deeper.

When Sherlock finally pulled away his cock slipped from his mouth with an erotic _pop_ , and for a moment he just let it brush gently across his lips. Breathing hard, Sherlock got to his feet again and grabbed Mycroft by his sides.

“Come here,” Sherlock demanded.

Mycroft found himself being pushed toward the bed. He fell unceremoniously onto his back. His mouth fell open as Sherlock climbed on top and began peeled his shirt away. As he did he licked and kissed his way up his chest. His tongue hit one of his nipples and he gasped as it lapped at it, teasing it back and forth. Reaching down, he began rubbing his cock gently. Mycroft scooted his arse against the sheets a bit for friction, and the sensations that flickered through him as a result made him throw his head back in ecstasy.

The bed still smelled of sex, of Sherlock, and of John, and it was enough to make him nauseous. He was grateful when Sherlock began kissing him again, and he let his hands roam his arse as a distraction. Sherlock moaned as his fingertips teased the cleft of his arse, and Mycroft had to resist the urge to turn the tables.

“Mycroft,” Sherlock whispered.

Their cheeks touched for a moment, and a wave of heat rushed through him. He began to reach to the side table, where a bottle of lube lay in the open, but Sherlock grabbed his arm.

“Mycroft,” Sherlock gasped again.

His skin was flushed and he was breathing hard. They rutted together, and Mycroft realized Sherlock was close already.

“Oh fuck Sherlock.”

“Sorry,” Sherlock breathed. “I’ve got to… _oh_.”

“It’s okay.” He placed one hand on Sherlock’s cheek and use the other to brush his hair out of the way. He grinned as a curl brushed against his face and he stole a kiss to his lips. Mycroft whispered into his ear: “Cum for me.”

Rubbing their cocks together and thrusting against him in unison, it only took one stroke, two strokes, before Sherlock spilled his release between them. He grunted through it, thrusting hard as he could to ride through the pleasure of his orgasm.

“Oh god,” Sherlock gasped. “Oh god. Fuck.”

Fighting for breath, Sherlock grabbed for his cock next and began pumping.

“Yes!”

Mycroft threw his head back and held onto Sherlock’s back as he thrust up into his hands.

“Sherlock, _yes_!” He exclaimed.

He grunted as he came, and as soon as the first spurt of cum hit Sherlock’s hands he leaned down to take him in his mouth again. The feeling of his mouth sucking down his cock as he climaxed made it feel like he was hit double the pleasure. Sherlock swallowed as he kept coming and coming.

As he finished Sherlock climbed on top of him and leaned in for a long, gentle, kiss to his lips. They broke apart and their eyes met, and a sickening feeling crept into his stomach as he realized what this was:

Their last time.

“Congratulations,” Sherlock whispered. He ran through his hair. “I’m proud of you. And happy for you. I think it’s the right decision.”

Mycroft could only gaze, and he felt empty when Sherlock slipped off of him. He grabbed his clothes and a towel from the floor.

“I need to wash up,” Sherlock explained.

He watched as the younger man disappeared from the room and shut the door behind him. Rolling over, Mycroft breathed in the scent of the bed once again. It smelled _filthy_. His heart still pounded from the arousal and adrenaline but also from the anticipation of what was about to happen.

His life was about to change forever.

Eyes falling to a gentle close, Mycroft allowed himself to duck under the covers and scoot up to the head of the bed. As soon as he hit the pillow he was coaxed into sleep, knowing that in the morning everything would change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this was going to be 7 chapters, but I decided to end it with an epilogue. Thanks for reading!! I hope you are enjoying it!


	8. Epilogue

The plan was to go back to Baker Street and get so wasted that things would magically make sense. Somewhere between pouring a glass of wine and settling into the sofa with Greg that plan changed to passing out. When John woke the next morning his entire body felt warm. In fact, he felt absolutely _perfect_. Moaning, he shifted around to find that he was still in Greg’s arms. Pleasure shot through him and his eyes burst open at the feeling of a mouth engulfing his cock. With a gasp John looked down to find Sherlock kneeling over the sofa. Judging by the state of his own dick and the tingling feeling throughout his body, Sherlock was well into the blowjob.

Suddenly his whole cock jumped down Sherlock’s throat and he bit back a cry. His hands jumped to the closest object for support- Greg’s arms. It felt wrong, clutching onto his arms as Sherlock took him down, but at the same time that uncomfortableness made the sex that much hotter. He moaned again and threw his head back to bounce against Greg’s chest. That must have woken him up; there was a sharp intake of breath behind him.

“Oh god,” Greg whispered.

“Oh fuck,” John echoed. “Sherlock… _Christ_.”

His lover moaned around his cock as he took him down deeper, and as soon as his dick hit the back of Sherlock’s throat his insides leapt with pleasure.

“Sherlock!” John gasped. “Oh god Sherlock, I’m gonna cum. _Oh!_ ”

A series of gasps and grunts erupted from him as hit cum hit Sherlock’s tongue. Sherlock lapped it up, teasing his cock with his tongue as he did, making him cum even harder.

“Oh fuck!” He sighed as he came down to earth. “Fucking, shit, Sherlock.”

Sitting back, Sherlock dragged a hand across his mouth and grinned. A hand brushed through his hair and down to his cheek, and he remembered Greg was lying against him.

“Morning,” John whispered to him.

“Morning,” Greg replied, planting a soft kiss on his head.

Sherlock visibly squirmed and a sickening feeling settled into John’s stomach.

“Come here,” John called to Sherlock.

Quietly, Sherlock crawled up the couch so that he pinned John between himself and Greg. He was dressed in pyjama pants and a t-shirt, but even through the thin fabric he could feel how hard Sherlock was. He reached up and palmed him through the cotton, and Sherlock’s forehead fell against his with a soft sigh.

But instead of giving into the touch, his boyfriend captured his lips into a gentle kiss. John kept rubbing him off, but Sherlock backed away and grabbed his hand. The bedroom door opened from the other side of the room and Mycroft slipped out, tightening one of Sherlock’s dressing gowns around himself as he did.

“Mycroft,” Sherlock breathed.

The elder Holmes nodded and then shifted his eyes to his own lover.

“Greg,” Mycroft announced. John expected more, but he was shocked when Sherlock’s brother suddenly went pale.

John and Sherlock shifted so that Greg could peel himself away from the sofa. He realised how sticky and in desperate need of a shower they all were, and Sherlock must have read his mind.

“Shower?” Sherlock asked. “Or breakfast? You choose.”

His stomach growled, and he remembered he actually hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon.

“Mmm food,” he sang. “You go make it.”

Rolling back to his stomach, John sighed happily and hugged the pillow to lure himself back to sleep. A trail of kisses ran up his shoulder blade. In the background a door shut as Mycroft and Greg isolated themselves in the bedroom.

“Eggs?” Sherlock breathed.

John bit his lip, embarrassed by how turned on he was just at the sound of Sherlock’s voice.

“We don’t have any,” John said, flipping himself back around. Their eyes met as he ran a hand through Sherlock’s curls. “How was your night?”

Sherlock offered him a shrug and tried to distract him with a kiss. As good as the kiss felt John was more interested in finding out what was on Sherlock’s mind.

“It was fine,” Sherlock replied. His eyes were blank, as though he were trapped somewhere far away. Mind palace, then.

The flat became very quiet very quickly, and John couldn’t help but to let his eyes dart to the bedroom. He ran his hand through Sherlock’s hair again to brush the bangs out of his eyes.

“Do you need-?” He began.

“Fine,” Sherlock cut off, blushing a bit. “It’s fine I…later, alright?”

A half-smile crossed John’s face.

“Are you alright, love?” John asked. “You’re distracted.”

His concern earned him a kiss. For a moment he gave in, enjoying the grace of Sherlock’s lips on his. Suddenly his boyfriend’s tongue teased at his lips, inching his mouth open little by little until John allowed him access to his throat. He kept his hand in Sherlock’s hair, enjoying the squirms each time his fingers latched onto a curl. When they broke apart John moaned, aching for more.

And in the bedroom, Greg let out a loud curse.

Sherlock grinned.

“What?” John demanded.

“Mycroft just proposed to him.”

Shooting straight up, John had to hold onto the cushion to keep his balance.

“Mycroft’s proposing?” John exclaimed. “To Greg Lestrade…the D.I.?”

“Yes.”

“The same Mycroft who fucked us both last night?”

“Yes.”

“And the same D.I. I had sex with afterward?”

“Yes.”

“They’re getting married and we did _that_?”

He was getting so flustered and so loud that Sherlock slapped his hand over his mouth to force him to be quiet.

“I didn’t know at the time!” Sherlock hissed. “Mycroft told me after I fucked him last night.”

“He really has a way with timing.”

John settled back down into the sofa and crossed his arms, uncertain if he were angry or proud.

“Yeah, I guess nothing makes someone come to a decision like that like having someone else’s dick up their arse,” Sherlock sighed. “I haven’t even spoken to him since. We slept in the same bed. Well, Mycroft slept, I stared.”

“Your brother’s getting married,” John said. As the full impact of those words hit him he sank into his lover’s arms and pulled Sherlock close to him. “That makes Greg your brother-in-law. Wow.”

“That makes him nothing, John,” Sherlock shot. “No blood relation, remember?”

Resting his head against John’s neck, Sherlock wrapped his arms around him.

“Sherlock…are you okay with this? Maybe you and Mycroft should talk.”

There was a cry of excitement from the bedroom, and Sherlock closed his eyes. John’s body went rigid; he knew he had to get the truth out of Sherlock or else they’d spend the whole engagement dealing with this tension.

“I’m happy for him,” Sherlock announced. “I am, really. He deserves to be happy, and Greg makes him happy. They can take care of each other. They’re perfect for each other, really. Can you imagine them with anyone else?”

“Well there’s...you.”

“I don’t count.” Sherlock’s voice was so small the confession almost came out as a whimper. His lover turned toward him, eyes wide and desperate. “John, I’m yours.”

Something buzzed nearby, and John leaned over Sherlock to see his mobile lighting up. He had a new text from Greg:

_Want to watch?_

He showed the text to Sherlock, whose eyes darkened. They both turned to the bedroom; the thought of what could be happening inside sent an uncontrollable heat rushing through body of their bodies.

“That bastard,” Sherlock mumbled, jumping up from the sofa.

John ran after Sherlock but came to a haul beside him when they saw what was happening in the bedroom. Greg was laying in his lovers arms; he was grinning ear to ear. On his left hand was a golden band.

“Mycroft proposed,” the D.I. said. His voice was a bit airy, like he was on some higher plane. Like he couldn’t quite believe what was happening. He was practically in Mycroft’s lap, but the elder Holmes’ face was perfectly stiff. “We’re getting married. I’m going to be married. I’m going to be a husband to another man.”

“I think he’s still in a bit of shock about that part,” Mycroft teased, planting a kiss to his boyfriend- his _fiancé’s_ \- cheek.

“That’s…that’s wonderful,” John stammered. “Are you going to have a ceremony?”

“There’s plenty of time to think about that,” Mycroft’s hands graced over the bare skin of Greg’s chest, over his hard nipples, “but we’d like to share this, with you two. I realize this might be awkward, given what we’ve done. I spoke with Sherlock last night, and we agreed it would be best if we no longer…shared each other.”

John was surprised when disappointed filled him. He enjoyed last night, that much was certain. The sex felt good- felt amazing- and enjoyed being so _wanted_.

“But we both agreed there was nothing wrong with watching,” Mycroft said with a sly grin. “After all it’s your flat.”

“How kind,” Sherlock said. “Do proceed, or Lestrade might possibly break.”

For the first time John noticed the two lovers were already in position. Greg wasn’t just lying against Mycroft; he was _on top_ of him. He’d asked if they wanted to watch…they were already partway there, with Mycroft buried inside him. Indeed, Greg looked like he might burst. His face with reeked with sweat and his chest was clearly tight. His heart was probably pounding.

With a smirk, Mycroft grabbed onto his lover and slowly began thrusting upward. Once again John felt his blood turn warm, and his cock perked up in interest inside his pants, though he just came. He became aware that he was standing in just in boxer shorts; even Sherlock just wore pyjama bottoms. He stood, unsure what he should be doing or thinking.

So he just watched.

He watched as Greg cringed. He watched as Mycroft’s hands slid down his fiancé’s body, straight down to his cock. Greg whimpered as those fingers took him in hand and stroked in time to the thrusts.

The thrusts that were becoming more powerful with each go.

“John,” Sherlock suddenly breathed into his ear. Glancing over, he realised his partner’s hand was lingering over his clothed-covered cock. “Would it be too much trouble if you…I mean, can you-?”

“You want to get off?”

Sherlock nodded.

Slowly, John felt his confidence return. Two pairs of eyes from the bed were glued to him as he maneuvered himself around Sherlock and grabbed his cock through his pyjamas. Sherlock’s eyes fluttered to a close and his head fell back, falling gracefully to John’s shoulder. His kissed his lover’s neck and gazed at Mycroft, who was thrusting harder and harder into Greg’s arse.

“Oh fuck,” Greg gasped. “Harder, Mycroft. Harder.”

“John,” Sherlock pleaded. “John, please.”

He rubbed Sherlock harder, faster, and offered few teasing thrust against his arse. Greg was practically bouncing on top of Mycroft, his cock slipping in and out of his lover’s hand. For a moment the room was filled with only grunts and groans. He pulled Sherlock’s pyjamas and boxers down past his hips and took his bare cock in hand.

“Fuck,” Greg exclaimed from the bed. “Mycroft!”

“Greg,” Mycroft murmured against his neck.

“Shit,” Sherlock whispered. “Fucking shit, John.”

Suddenly Sherlock fell forward, holding onto the bed for support. John gave him a push so that his boyfriend sat up by his brother. The bed vibrated as Mycroft’s cock pounded and pounded into Greg’s arse. His fingers rubbed against lover’s nipples, pinching and squeezing.

And Sherlock lay on his back, waiting for him. Kicking off his pants and pyjamas, Sherlock settled back into the pillows and rests his hands on his chest. He rubbed one nipple, then the other, as John began planting a trail of kisses up his legs. His fingers followed his lips up Sherlock’s thighs and finally to his cock. He kissed the head first before licking up the shaft. Sherlock squirmed and grabbed onto John’s head, forcing him to take him in completely.

With a moan Sherlock threw his head back and arched his back into his mouth. John fought for breath for a moment and slipped off, licking his shaft again and gently weighing his balls in his hands.

“Yes,” Sherlock whispered, “again, John. Again. Please.”

He stroked his balls again gently and took him deeper into his mouth. The cock hit his throat and he moaned. He savored the feeling of pre-cum dripping onto his mouth and sucked harder. Beside him Greg whimpered and tensed up.

“Mycroft,” Greg pleaded. “Oh god.”

“Go on,” Mycroft whispered. “Show them.”

John’s eyes drifted over into time to see Greg grab his own cock and pump in earnest. A moan sounded from Mycroft, who braced himself against Greg and let out a fierce cry.

“Fucking shit!” Greg grunted, eyes blown wide as the first shot of cum coated his chest. Sherlock was panting as well as his cock slipped in and out of his lips, hitting his throat each time. “Shit. _Mycroft._ ”

He came again and kept cumming as Mycroft pumped into him, burying himself deep inside him. Mycroft cried out again and closed his eyes tightly.

“Fuck!” Sherlock gasped. “John! More! _Yes_!”

For one final time he drew the cock between his lips and Sherlock came, shooting his release into his mouth. His cock slipped away, leaving cum dripping onto his lips and chin.

“Oh fuck,” Sherlock whispered.

The four of them sat in silence, chests heaving as they came down from their high. John climbed up his body so that they were face-to-face. He gazed at Sherlock for a few moments; a curl fell in his face and John brushed it away. Leaning forward, he planted a soft kiss to his lips. Sherlock moaned into the kiss and wrapped his arms around him.

“Jesus,” Greg breathed. “That was…intense.”

“Very intense,” John agreed. He collapsed into Sherlock’s chest. “I mean last night was…that was pretty insane. But this was…wow.”

“Watching brings out something even more incredible,” Mycroft said. He kissed Greg’s cheek. “It’s a rush. But yes, last night was quite something.”

He and Greg shared a deep kiss and broke away smiling.

“You two are disgusting,” Sherlock teased.

“I hope you’re okay,” Mycroft said, “really.”

The elder Holmes’ hand rested on Sherlock’s face, and when John saw a flash of hurt flicker pass through his eyes John knew this was going to be more complicated than originally thought.

“I told you I’m happy for you,” Sherlock replied, “and I mean it.”

A faint smile crept over his lips and Sherlock turned away, cuddling against John’s body. He held him there, offering comforting brushes of his hand against Sherlock’s back. Within moments his lover was asleep and Mycroft and Greg excused themselves to go shower.

“I hope you’re okay too,” John whispered to Sherlock’s sleeping form.

He closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh before falling asleep himself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end. Thanks for sticking with this one, I hope it was a fun read ;)
> 
> And thanks so much for all the nice comments! Keep an eye out for more stories in this series!


End file.
